


take a breath, and let it go

by 991102



Series: the habits of my heart [2]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, i have a strange hyperfixation on doctor aus, is it a good thing uh probably not, i’m 7 months late and absolutely no one is shocked, zzz this is the sequel i promised back in april woohoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/991102/pseuds/991102
Summary: minhyun has faith in himself, and he has faith in seongwusequel to oh darling, have a little faith





	take a breath, and let it go

**Author's Note:**

> zzzz hello it’s me again after complete radio silence in the tag woo lie to me and tell me you missed me >:( 
> 
> this is dedicated to my favorite people!!!! subs (trademarked)!!!! special thanks to pratu for your unconditional love and support mwah and also ryan for reading a little of this and convincing me i don’t suck major balls <4
> 
> parts of this may be triggering so please tread lightly and stop reading if you are uncomfortable at any point! warning again if you missed the tag! this includes minor character death

“You have rounds to make, Hwang Minhyun, get out of bed!” 

Minhyun wakes up to clear skies, the blazing sun hanging high in a perfect blanket of blue, and the devil incarnate that is Im Nayeon shouting in his ear. 

He groans. 

The weather is wonderful, and Minhyun appreciates it for the most part, more so when he  _ isn’t _ grouchy and exhausted, but he  _ is _ grouchy and exhausted, and the glare of the sun makes his tired eyes sting.

Forget the weather though, cause another fact is far more baffling and thought-provoking, and Minhyun has thought about for far too long to just ignore it now.

Long story short, Seongwu has been really bright the past few days—not that he wasn’t bright before, but it’s to a different extent now, one that even the others have noticed. 

Youngmin asks more than a couple of r-rated questions that have Minhyun’s dead grandmother weeping in her grave—Minhyun thinks the worst part of it is that he asks it so innocently, as if he’s genuinely curious and not just dirty minded. Jisoo thanks him out of the blue every now and then, and she does so with that bright, blinding smile of hers; the one that Minhyun feels morally obligated to return. Nayeon has developed an odd habit of making obscene hand gestures at him when they run into each other in the corridors. Jonghyun doesn’t say much, but he smiles in that way that Minhyun knows  _ means something _ . 

For fuck’s sake, even the sweet old woman at the front desk joins in on the fun, going as far as asking him how Seongwu likes his eggs cooked in the morning.

Minhyun is dumb, sure, but he’s not stupid.

He knows what they’re getting at. He knows they think there’s something going on between him and Seongwu; that Seongwu’s sudden happy demeanor has something to do with him. As much as he would like to believe there’s at least some truth in their words though, Minhyun doesn’t know what to think. 

The older’s not certain if he’s more thrilled or terrified by the thought of his company having even a miniscule impact on Seongwu’s mood, but perhaps “thrilled” even being one of the options is saying enough. 

Minhyun is glad though, he’s relieved even, that Seongwu looks more alive. 

Maybe Minhyun’s eyes are deceiving him or maybe he thinks too far into the little things, but sometimes, just sometimes, when he cracks a dumb joke, or remembers to buy two cartons of strawberry milk rather than one, Seongwu seems to glow. 

The brunette is gorgeous, Minhyun knows that, but when the sun shines just right and time slows for just a second, Seongwu is just  _ ethereal _ . 

Minhyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight more beautiful; dark brown eyes taking hold of the light until they melt into a honey caramel, sharp features gone soft around the edges, smile more radiant than anything Minhyun has ever known. 

If he believed, Minhyun would pray to God that it’s more than just a trick of the light.

Seongwu has just been so  _ happy _ . 

It’s nice to hear the brunette’s laughter fill the air and to see his entire face light up with amusement; more so to be the cause of his laughter. 

Minhyun’s grandmother had once told him that the greatest happiness in the world was making your dearest loved one laugh. 

He thinks that now, all these years later, he might just understand what she meant. 

Minhyun decides that it’s a fickle thing though, happiness. 

Fate too, is a fickle thing. It’s like the winds; howling one way like an unstoppable force, slowing for a millisecond, and taking a u-turn; drawing Minhyun towards one thing one moment, and dragging him away by the ear the next. 

It could only be fate’s work that he chances upon the hospital’s small chapel just as the thought crosses his mind.

Minhyun’s strides stutter to a stop.. 

He pauses in thought, takes a step back, and he eyes the wide oak doors in skepticism. 

For a second, Minhyun wonders, despite himself,  _ what if _ .

If for a brief moment, if he had a little faith, if he said grace before dinner, if he had bothered to pay attention in Bible study, if he wore the silver cross the old piano teacher had pressed into his palm all those years back…  _ if… if… if…  _

What if?

It isn’t a question Minhyun had ever contemplated; two words he never found purpose in. 

It’s amazing, the things Hwang Minhyun would do for Ong Seongwu. 

With a soft sigh, Minhyun pushes past the heavy doors, and he takes a seat at the pew in the far back where he can gaze up at the big cross fixed at the head of the room without making the sore ache in his neck worse. 

It couldn’t hurt to try, Minhyun mumbles to himself, to try just once.

Minhyun clasps his hands, and bears his heart, and he asks the big man up in the clouds for a small favor. 

_ Hey there… God? Or whoever is there, if you’re up there and I’m not just talking to myself... If you are real, and as great as the world makes you out to be, if you're listening, forgive me for my ignorance and do me a solid.  _

_ I have a… a friend? Yeah. A friend.  _

_ Ong Seongwu.  _

_ He’s kind of an idiot, but I think I might have taken a tiny liking to him.  _

_ Take care of him, would you?  _

Minhyun doesn’t really know how the whole prayer thing works, but he tries his best. He mumbles “Amen” like his grandmother did every night when she prayed before bed, and there’s an odd feeling that washes over him when he decides to call it good. He doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s almost like cotton balls, or the fading gray of the clouds after a big storm; a bit stifling and unnerving, but in a way, comforting. 

Minhyun’s eyes open only when he gets a text, notification bell loud in the peace and quiet of the chapel.

  
  


**jisoo** → **minhyun**

minhyun where are you???

**minhyun** → **jisoo**

the chapel 

  
  


Before Minhyun can send the girl a second text, something along the lines of “why” or “will be back in a minute”, the door swings open with a loud bang. The sound echoes throughout the empty room and rings in his ears like the clash of giant cymbals, but despite how much Minhyun wishes it weren’t so, the sudden clamor isn’t what truly startles him.

It’s Jisoo. 

Her hair is a mess, and beads of sweat cling to her forehead, almost like morning dew atop the flower petals outside the hospital, but not as aesthetically pleasing and far more concerning. Her face is pale and blotchy, but what really throws Minhyun for a loop is the tears pooling in her eyes, half dried tear tracks luminous under the harsh lighting of the chapel. 

Minhyun freezes, and his mouth falls open and closed in shock, gaping for words to say. Minhyun has never seen the older so completely devastated, and he doesn’t even want to begin to think about what possibly could have brought the bright, cheery girl to tears. 

“Jisoo… ” 

Jisoo wipes at her eyes, and Minhyun holds his breath. A choked sound cracks Jisoo’s voice, and her brows draw together. She takes a shaky breath. “It’s Seongwu.” 

Minhyun’s mind blanks. 

“Seongwu… ” Jisoo’s voice is just above a whisper, and Minhyun thinks he would have missed it if he weren’t awaiting her words like his life depended on it. Minhyun doesn’t know Jisoo well enough to read her body language, but he can see her small frame shaking from where he’s seated, and that alone is more than enough to have bile rising in his throat, dread wrapping itself tight around his throat. “Seongwu needs you.” 

The stray tears in Jisoo’s eyes finally fall, and it’s in that moment that Minhyun’s heart sinks, body rising from the cold bench mechanically, movements stiff and robotic.

“Take me to him.”

Without another word, Minhyun follows Jisoo out of the chapel, and he doesn’t look back. 

An image of a grin playing on rosy lips floats before his eyes, and Seongwu’s laughter echoes in his ears.  _ “Oh, come on, Hwang! Have a little faith!”  _

Minhyun swallows around the lump in his throat as he follows after Jisoo, shooing away the images of Seongwu that flood his mind, and he decides that he does have faith. 

He has faith in himself, and he has faith in Seongwu. 

Whatever happened and whatever consequences will follow, they’ll take it one day at a time.

  
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


In medias res. 

In the middle of things. 

Seongwu has always hated stories that began in medias res.

Jisung assigned Seongwu to his first patient two months ago, a seventeen year old boy with a heart defect named Yeowon, not Kim Yeowon, not Choi Yeowon nor Song Yeowon, just Yeowon. 

The boy came to the hospital alone, almost collapsing after walking two miles, and Seongwu was the first to run to his side. 

He said he had a mother, yes, but he didn’t have a family, and Seongwu hadn’t had the heart to ask further. He understands that—having a parent who you can’t consider family—, and maybe that’s why Seongwu had taken an instant liking to Yeowon, taking the boy under his wing and making sure he wasn’t alone during his time in the hospital. 

Yeowon didn’t have the money for treatment, but Jisung had a plan. 

(Jisung always had a plan).

Here are a couple of facts:

Yeowon has a crush on a girl from school. Jieun, he’d say with this lovesick, dreamy look in his eyes, her name is Kim Jieun. 

Yeowon loves vanilla shakes and mango tea. 

He loves to play soccer, and he loves life. 

It’s a shame though, Yeowon would say at times. He’d say that maybe he had been a bad person in his past life, for the heavens had given him a heart that had a bad memory; sometimes it would forget to beat.

Seongwu never did know what to say to that, but maybe he didn’t have to say anything at all, he just had to listen. 

Days became weeks, and Seongwu and Yeowon became friends.

Weeks became months, and Seongwu and Yeowon became brothers.

It was a stroke of luck, a diamond in the rough, that a heart was given to Yeowon. He was low on the list, and donors are hard to come by, but he got one. 

Maybe it was the heavens’ will, an apology for giving Yeowon such a forgetful heart.

(Minhyun would say that Seongwu was happier about it than Yeowon was).

Seongwu doesn’t know where it all went wrong. 

It had all been going so well. Yeowon was in stable condition for weeks, and he was  _ ready _ . Yeowon has waited for months, years, long before Seongwu even came into the picture, and right when it was all beginning to make sense, and they could just reach out and touch the light at the end of the tunnel, the world tilted on its axis, and the intricate house of cards they had constructed with the care and love of a mother to her kin collapsed right before their eyes. 

Yeowon said it was okay, that it was fate’s doing, but all Seongwu can think about is how  _ unfair _ it is that the heavens decided to take away the one chance a young boy had at a second shot at life; how cruel it is to drop it into their hands only to snatch it away before they could curl their fingers around it; how sickening it is to have the heart to end a boy’s life, and dance around the cold earth where he is to be laid to rest. 

The OR was prepared, Jisung was ready, the heart had arrived, Seongwu bought flowers—the red sunflowers that Yeowon said were his favorite—, and Yeowon rose with a smile that could rival the force of a million suns. 

And then, it had all come crashing down.

The world is cruel. 

Fate is cruel. 

“ _ Please _ . Please, hyung,” Seongwu pleads. 

Seongwu doesn’t know how long he’s kneeled before Jisung; how long he’s sobbed; how long he’s chanted “please” like a prayer. Hot tears streaming down red cheeks, frantic hands wrinkling Jisung’s pants, Seongwu begs, and he begs. “Please just do it, hyung. Yeowon is ready, he’s _ okay _ ! Yeowon can do it! He can!  _ Please just do it. _ ” 

He knows he’s making a scene, and embarrassing himself in front of hospital staff he should be earning the respect of, wailing like a siren in the once quiet and serene hospital corridor, but there isn’t a single bone in his body that can control the hurricane of agony and rage within him, the tornado of emotions that sucks his entire soul in and thrashes about like an unstoppable force, wrecking all in its path of destruction. 

The universe is playing a trick on him.

“Seongwu, I can’t.”

Some nurses stand to the side, eyes glazed with concern as they look on and converse in hushed whispers. Nayeon cries into Youngmin’s shoulder, the male well on his way to tears too, and Jonghyun urges Seongwu to stand, but Seongwu twists out of his gentle grip, fingers curling harshly into Jisung’s shirt. Seongwu clenches and unclenches his fists, and he thrashes about. “You can!” Seongwu roars, hysterical as he chants, “You can, you can, you can…” 

The monster of rage in Seongwu’s gut doubles in size when Jisung can only continue to murmur apologies. 

Seongwu doesn’t  _ want _ apologies. What he  _ wants _ is for Jisung to do the damn heart transplant. 

The older’s kind features are painted with a kind of despair that makes Seongwu’s heart drop to the pit of his stomach. It’s a kind of pain that drowns his whole frame, and makes him look so small and vulnerable, when he joins Seongwu on the hospital floor. 

“Seongwu, listen to me. Seongwu.” Jisung holds Seongwu’s face, and Seongwu allows him to, far too exhausted to push the older away despite how much he wants to take out his anger on him, on someone, on  _ anyone _ . “Please listen to me. I want to do it. I do. I want to do the surgery just as much as you do. You know that, don’t you?” 

Sobs still racking through his body, Seongwu searches for an answer, swallowing down the sobs and forcing himself to  _ think _ , and he nods, because yes, he knows Jisung, and he knows that Jisung loves Yeowon like a little brother too. 

Jisung has done so much for Yeowon. He’s done so much more for him than Seongwu ever has. A voice in his head echoes solemnly, reminding Seongwu of how much Jisung has done for  _ him _ .

The older’s voice drops to a broken whisper. “I want to do it, but I can’t.” 

Seongwu’s world comes crashing down for the nth time that day. 

“Please, hyung.” Seongwu chokes out, eyes closed as he rubs at the ache in his chest, heart clenching and closing in on itself as if just to hold its broken pieces together. Seongwu’s lungs are on fire from the exertion, and his throat is more parts sand paper than actual throat, and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. 

He doesn’t know what more to do. 

Seongwu doesn’t have any fight left in him, but his mind continues to run on adrenaline, reminding him of why he has to try again, reminding him of  _ who _ he’s fighting for. “His birthday was last month. He’s just a kid—hyung, he’s barely eighteen.” 

Jisung sucks in a low breath, and the look in his eyes is so  _ jaded _ . It makes Seongwu wonder if that’s what being a doctor does to you; if Jisung is only calm because he’s stood in Seongwu’s shoes and gone through the exact same thing; if he’s made the same call; if he’s watched this play out a hundred times over. 

“Eighteen is old enough to make your own decisions, and Yeowon has made his. He signed the DNR.” Jisung says finally, with the authority of Seongwu’s superior and the kindness of Seongwu’s long-time friend. “You may not understand it, but you have to respect it.” 

Seongwu leans back, head making a dull thud against the wall. 

He scoffs, but it doesn’t have any bite in it, only hurt. “It’s a stupid decision.”

“It’s not. Yeowon is in no shape to go through that procedure, and you and I both know that, Seongwu.  _ Yeowon  _ knows that.” Jisung’s eyes flicker to the door down the corridor, and Seongwu digs crescents into his palm with his nails to hold himself back from following the older’s gaze. “You might not want to acknowledge it, but Yeowon knows his body. He actually told me, you know? That he knows he wouldn’t make it.” 

“He’s a lot more wise than you and I.” Jisung lets out a short laugh, but it’s so tired and defeated, and if possible, Seongwu’s heart drops further, pressing a hole to the core of the earth. “It’s unfair, and it sucks. I would do  _ anything _ to be able to do that damned surgery, but it’s final. The kid’s body is too weak. He won’t be able to handle the stress it would put him under. If we go through with it, he’s going to die on that table, Seongwu.” 

Seongwu’s throat tightens again, the familiar sting returning to prick at his eyes, and he has to force the tears to stay at bay. 

He says one last thing with the desperation of someone dancing on the line of life and death, the urgency of someone running out of time, the pain of someone who knows that this story will not end with a happily ever after. “He won’t last much longer without a different heart.”

Seongwu knows it, and he knows they’re all thinking the same thing, but it’s so much more daunting to say it out loud, to hear it and be forced to understand that it’s a reality. 

“Seongwu, if you love that boy, you will understand that we can’t do it. We can’t do that to him. We have to let him go on his own time.” Jisung murmurs, catching Seongwu’s eyes and holding them. There’s that same jaded look staring back at Seongwu, and it’s almost like it’s mocking him, laughing at him as if it knows that one day, it will be in Seongwu’s eyes too. 

Seongwu’s composure is hanging by a thread, and it only takes a single cut to have him free falling.

“Go in there and be with him.” Jisung mumbles as he slowly rises to stand, shooting Seongwu a warm smile. “You’re the closest thing he has to family.”

Seongwu’s body shakes with the force of his returning sobs, throat dry and head pounding. He knows he’s exhausted himself past saving, too wound up to stop, but too weak to go on. Like an afterthought, Seongwu wonders if this is how Yeowon felt in every passing moment since his diagnosis; a spectator watching as his own body began to deteriorate, unable to do a single thing to change his fate. 

The worst part of it all is that Seongwu knows it’s coming, knows it’s looming over him like a thundercloud; the defeat, the acceptance, the understanding that Jisung is right, and he hates that he’s already beginning to accept it.

There is nothing more he can do for Yeowon, and Seongwu hates that he knows it.

Right as Jisung moves to walk off, Seongwu holds him back, fingers curling around the muted blue of his scrubs. Seongwu closes his eyes, not minding the stray tears that spill down his cheeks, and asks Jisung for one last favor. 

“Will you call his mother?” 

Seongwu doesn’t look, but he knows Jisung nods. “Of course.” The older has a hand on Seongwu’s shoulder; to console, to ground him, or to power him through the final moments, Seongwu doesn’t have the capacity to determine, but it soothes him just enough to allow him to build up the courage to stand and walk down the hall to Yeowon’s room. 

  
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


It’s half an hour later that Seongwu’s tears dry and he trusts himself enough not to break down at the sight of the boy. It takes him another five minutes to gather energy to actually turn the knob and walk into Yeowon’s room, taking a seat beside the boy and trying for a smile, hand gravitating toward the younger’s own. 

The boy’s eyes open, lethargic, but bright when he recognizes that it’s just Seongwu. “Hey Doc.”

Seongwu forces a weak smile, throat tight as he returns the greeting. “Hey you.” 

Yeowon moves to rise, but he can’t, elbows giving out on him under his weight, and the sight of a boy too weak to do any more than lay in a hospital bed when once upon a time he could run, and hike, and kick a soccer ball across half a field, makes Seongwu’s eyes pool with tears again. 

The boy panics, hands waving around in a hurry when he notices Seongwu’s unshed tears. Seongwu came to comfort him, but now it looks like Yeowon will be the one doing the comforting. “It’s okay! I’m okay!” 

Too ashamed to meet the boy’s warm, patient gaze, Seongwu ducks his head, palms pressed to his eyes. “Yeowon, I am sorry. I am so,  _ so _ sorry.” Seongwu chants his apologies like a prayer, willing himself to ignore what he really means:  _ I can’t do anything more for you _ . “I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Doc. I’m okay.” the boy says after a moment, thoughtful look on his face, smile timid, but just as bright as the first time Seongwu saw him. The thought makes Seongwu’s heart clench. No matter what cards the heavens dealt him, what ill fate is looming over him, what he’s gone through, Yeowon still smiles so brightly, and it’s what Seongwu admires most about him. Yeowon stares at Seongwu with kind eyes, always warm and understanding. “Will you do something for me?” 

Seongwu is quick to nod, holding the boy’s hands close, eager to make the most of what’s left of his and Yeowon’s time together. “Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to be the one to do it.” 

The older cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Do what? I don’t understand.” 

A moment passes, and it’s in a dawning, almost roundabout way that a passing thought races to the front of Seongwu’s mind, and it’s nothing more than an extreme, a fat chance, one in a million at most, but fate has made a fool out of Seongwu more than one time today, and suddenly the impossible is possible.

Seongwu’s mouth goes dry. 

“You know what I’m talking about, hyung.” Yeowon teases with a good natured laugh, nudging him, and he says it in such a casual manner. He says it as if he’s reading off the weather forecast or his coffee order, or as if he’s cracking a joke, and Seongwu is sick to his stomach. Still, he hears Yeowon out, watching him with careful eyes. “I want it to be you.” 

The boy smiles. “I want you to turn the machines off.” 

The machines.

The machines that taped him to this world.

Yeowon wanted him to turn the machines off.

And as if the heavens were making an example of out him, Seongwu’s world comes crashing down again, universe laughing as it knocks him off balance, fate pressing him into the cold concrete.

Seongwu was a fool to think it would be a simple request, but Yeowon’s last wish makes his blood run cold, heart falling to the pit of his stomach and insides twisting. 

A fresh batch of tears well up in Seongwu’s eyes, but he nods finally, reluctant, but willing to do whatever the boy wanted from him. 

It’s Yeowon’s last wish after all, and Seongwu would be damned if he didn’t say 

“Okay.”

  
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


It’s just after they have dinner together, Italian food courtesy of a run to Yeowon’s favorite pasta place, that Seongwu lays in bed with Yeowon, the younger’s head on Seongwu’s shoulder, hands joined on top of the knit blanket the kind old lady in the room two doors down made for him last month. 

“Are you scared?” Seongwu asks, voice barely above a whisper. He’d talk louder, but something about tonight makes him decide against it, sticking to mumbles and hushed tones. 

Yeowon is silent for a minute, contemplating the question, and Seongwu’s shoulder itches when Yeowon shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I am.” He turns his head to look at Seongwu, and Seongwu does the same, questioning him with his eyes. “I was ready for this a long time ago. I was prepared, I think? I think I’m a pretty good kid, and I had a good life. I’ll have more chances in my other lives.” 

Seongwu smiles, and he nods. “You are a good kid. And you will. You’re going to go places, I just know it. Make lots of money and take me for a vacation, will you?”

The boy falls into loud laughter, the sound contagious and full of youth, and Seongwu laughs too, watching as a wide grin plays on Yeowon’s lips.

The moment is beautiful, and Seongwu wishes it could last forever. 

Yeowon coughs. 

He doesn’t stop coughing, and the machines around him flare up, flashing red as the boy continues to cough, body hunched over and shoulders shaking. 

Seongwu shouts for nurses, slamming the panic button above Yeowon’s bed. 

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” Yeowon asks through another round of coughs.

Seongwu doesn’t mind the nurses flooding into the room, and his eyes stay on Yeowon, heart stopping at the question. Looking Yeowon in the eye, Seongwu stops what he’s doing and nods. 

With a wave of the hand and no other explanation—he couldn’t find it in himself to say it out loud, to confirm his own worst fears—, Seongwu motions for the nurses to exit the room, and it’s in an almost defeated manner that they follow his directions, heads bowed and hands folded, and he climbs back into bed with Yeowon, holding his hand as the boy holds back his coughs, in an eternal war with his own body, other hand fisting his hospital gown.

Yeowon asks a question, voice low, and he said he wasn’t scared, but Seongwu knows he is. “What happens after this?”

Seongwu takes a shaky breath, and he forces his voice to maintain calm. He doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not  _ ready _ for this, but it’s happening, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. He traces circles into the back of Yeowon’s palm. “You’re going to go some place far now, Heaven maybe, and I can’t be there with you just yet, but you won’t be alone.” 

“You’ll be safe there, with all those who arrived before you.” Tears pool in Seongwu’s eyes, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, focusing on Yeowon’s rough breathing and holding his hand tighter with each shaky breath the younger takes. “They’ll take care of you, I know they will. You’ll make friends, and you’ll find someone who will love you as much as you love them.” 

He smiles, mumbling Yeowon’s own words like a prayer. “You will have other chances.”

Yeowon’s breathing slows, and Seongwu’s heart clenches as if bracing itself for what's to come.

“Hyung?” 

Seongwu’s tears fall. “I’m still here. I’m right by your side.” 

“In my next life,” Yeowon looks at him with a wide smile, eyes clear as day, warm and sunny like a summer day. “I really hope you’ll be my big brother.” 

Seongwu smiles back, messing up Yeowon’s hair, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he can feel Yeowon’s grip on his hand growing weak, and he bites back a sob. “I can be anything you want me to be.”

The boy holds out his other hand in front of Seongwu, pinky finger pointed at the sky. “Promise you won’t forget me?”

With a nod, Seongwu hooks his pinky with the boy, and he makes a promise that he swears to protect, pressing a kiss onto the boy’s temple, “I promise you, Yeowon, just Yeowon.”

At the old memory, Yeowon smiles. 

“Thank you, Seongwu hyung, for teaching me what family is like.” 

It’s the last time he does.

Yeowon’s smile falls.

When the boy’s eyes close, two hearts stop, but only one remembers to beat again.

  
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


Seongwu has always been told by colleagues and acquaintances that he looks arrogant and maybe too confident, and though he’s always laughed it off with a cheeky grin and a “but how do you know I’m  _ not _ arrogant and too confident?”, he’s never bothered to correct them. 

It’s not that he necessarily  _ enjoys _ being considered haughty, but it’s just easy this way, simpler. 

Seongwu knows they mean no harm (and maybe they aren’t even conscious of the fact that they aren’t bothering to  _ actually _ know him), but his friends and co-workers tend to assume he isn’t affected by his mistakes or fazed when there are complications with his patients; that he bounces right back; that he has this impenetrable wall of confidence and professionalism that protects him from the attachment, and uncertainty, and devastation that come with this line of work; but they couldn’t be more far off.

He is haunted by every single mistake he has ever made; every single surgery that could have gone smoother; every single patient he could have done more for. 

Maybe the anxiety and self hatred won’t last forever, but the names and the faces of the patients—the parents, the husbands, the wives, the brothers, the sisters, children—, that he failed to save will always stick with him.

And maybe it’s unhealthy or dangerous to bottle it all up, but Seongwu likes to think that it’s just part of the job. 

It’s Seongwu’s job as a doctor to do what he can, and live with what he cannot.

It’s Seongwu’s job to take care of others.

He’s said this before to Jisoo, and bless her kind heart, she had asked “but who will take care of you?” 

Seongwu had snorted and waved her off. “I can take care of myself.” 

And he has. 

It’s simple this way. 

What’s not simple is Minhyun walking into the room at the exact moment Seongwu bursts into another round of tears. 

Seongwu doesn’t have time to react—not that he could in this state—or shy away and pretend he isn’t crying his heart out before Minhyun closes the distance between them and tugs him into his arms, hold tight. 

Seongwu’s entire body jerks with the force of his heart wrenching sobs, lungs screaming at him to just  _ breathe _ , tear tracks staining pale cheeks, and red clouding once clear eyes. Seongwu melts into his hug, body weak and hands shaking as he fists Minhyun’s shirt.

Minhyun doesn’t ask Seongwu if he’s okay, just as Seongwu hadn’t on that night, for it’s clear that he’s far from  _ okay _ . He’s overwhelmed, and lost, and in pain, and exhausted in every definition of the word. Minhyun doesn’t waver, and he doesn’t judge him, and he doesn’t ask a single thing of Seongwu. 

He simply holds him. 

It shouldn’t be this simple, but in this moment, Seongwu doesn’t care about simplicity and complications. He just  _ needs someone _ , and Minhyun is there. 

Minhyun presses a kiss to his head and holds him tighter. “It will be okay. You’ll be okay.”   
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


Seongwu wakes up in Minhyun’s arms, cheek pillowed by the older’s chest and nape gently cradled by Minhyun’s hand. His neck aches, and his muscles strain in protest when he sits up to stretch, and he feels like a load of shit, but one look at Minhyun still sleeping peacefully makes something stir in him, heart humming in his chest. 

His eyes sting from crying himself to sleep, his throat is sore, and his lips are cracked, but nothing hurts more than the sudden hollow feeling in his heart as reality dawns on him again and images of Yeowon’s falling smile and a haunting flatline flood his mind.

Tears rise again in Seongwu’s eyes, fat droplets that block his sight, and he chokes on a sob. In a rush not to wake Minhyun, he presses a hand to his mouth and turns away from the older.

“Why are you crying in the corner by yourself, Ong Seongwu?” Minhyun calls, voice scratchy from sleep, and the blankets rustles.

Seongwu mumbles out an apology for waking him, but Minhyun won’t have it. The older circles a hand around Seongwu’s wrist and tugs, catching him with his arms and pillowing him with his own body when the younger falls onto the bunk. “You have nothing to apologize for. Just don’t hide from me.” 

He has a lot to apologize for though. He wants to apologize to Yeowon. He wants to apologize to Jisung. He wants to apologize to the kind old lady two doors down from Yeowon—she had taken one look at the knit blanket and collapsed, tears staining her blush colored cheeks.

He wants to apologize for doing nothing. He wants to apologize for watching as the life drained from a boy who should have had a chance in  _ this _ life. He wants to apologize for failing to do the one thing he’s supposed to be good at: saving lives.

“I watched him die, Minhyun.” 

Minhyun snakes his arms around Seongwu’s waist, and Seongwu allows him to, melting in the older’s arms. “I know you did.”

Seongwu wants to cry more, but he’s run out of tears. “I watched him die, and I couldn’t do anything about it. It’s my job to  _ do _ something, but I couldn’t.”

“He signed the DNR, didn’t he?” 

He nods, too weak to say more, and Minhyun doesn’t press. 

The younger plays with Minhyun’s fingers, staring at them if only to ward off the stinging sensation behind his eyes. “You did a lot more for him than you think, Seongwu.” 

“I couldn’t save him.” 

Minhyun places a hand under Seongwu’s chin and gently turns it, making Seongwu look at him. “No, you couldn’t, but you made him happy, Seongwu.” 

“You made him smile every time you walked into his room, and you gave him what he always wanted.” Minhyun smiles down at him, cradling the side of his face with a hand, and Seongwu finds himself returning a small one of his own. “Family.”

Minhyun swipes at Seongwu’s stray tears with his thumb. “And sometimes that is enough.” 

_ “Thank you, Seongwu hyung, for teaching me what family is like.”  _

It will be okay, Seongwu says to himself, and he believes it.

Not today, not tomorrow, but one day. 

  
  


☤ ☤ ☤

  
  


“Eating with Seongwu again?” Nayeon asks with a smile, eyes glinting with mischief as she walks with Minhyun.

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Nayeon protests, but she doesn’t press, bidding Minhyun goodbye with a wave of the hand. “Have a nice breakfast, lover boy.” 

Seongwu comes into his line of sight when Minhyun rounds the corner, the younger looking ethereal in the morning light even in the muted blue of the hospital distributed scrubs, and Minhyun places the tray in front of Seongwu, taking his place opposite of him.

Minhyun looks down at his tray; at the two cartons of strawberry milk; at the two sandwiches; at the two salads. 

One for him, and one for Seongwu.

Seongwu holds his hand out for the pink carton, pouting when Minhyun doesn’t budge. It’s only when Seongwu makes a low whine of protest that the past memories fade, and Minhyun returns to reality. “Daydreaming this early in the morning?” 

Minhyun props his elbows on the table, watching as Seongwu rips open the plastic of his sandwich. “Just thinking.” 

The younger doesn’t pay him any mind as he takes a big bite of his food. “Thinking about?” 

“You.” 

Seongwu’s lips part in shock, hands frozen in place, and he stares at Minhyun with wide eyes. He coughs a little, almost choking on his food, and pats his chest as he swallows. He points at himself, and Minhyun notices that a blush inches up the younger’s neck, pretty against his pale skin. 

“ _ Me? _ ”

Minhyun nods, and he knows he’s probably enjoying Seongwu’s embarrassment a little too much, but he finds Seongwu completely endearing when he’s acting shy. He holds his head up with one hand, leaning closer to Seongwu. “Who else?” 

A fierce blush blooms on Seongwu’s face, ears and cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and he hides behind his carton of strawberry milk, making strained complaints about Minhyun’s shamelessness.

Minhyun watches Seongwu with a fond smile, and he laughs under his breath as a thought runs across his mind. 

He mimics Seongwu’s words that the younger had blurted out months ago, a change of pace in the small shape of a carton of strawberry milk and a sandwich dropped into Minhyun’s lap. “I was just thinking that this is kind of odd, isn’t it?” 

The younger catches on immediately, looking at Minhyun from over the pink carton. Minhyun laughs as Seongwu tosses caution to the wind, squaring his shoulders and staring at Minhyun with mischievous eyes, both curious and expectant. “Very.”

Upon some surge of courage, Minhyun reaches across the table for the younger’s hand, and he plays with Seongwu’s fingers, noting that they’re just like Seongwu’s entire being; slender and beautiful. He laces their fingers together. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stares at their interlocked hands, and he smiles to himself as a rush of  _ something _ blooms in his chest again. He’s come to associate  _ something _ with Seongwu. Minhyun thinks it might be affection, perhaps fondness, and one day, maybe it’ll become love—maybe it already is love. 

_ Love. _

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself.” The younger eyes him in suspicion, voice whiny as he complains. “Are you going to drop any more bombs on me? It’s only eight in the morning, Minhyun, I can only take so much.” 

“No, but can I ask you something?” Minhyun hums, watching as Seongwu munches on his sandwich, bobbing his head to the soft music filling the hospital cafeteria.

“You already are.” Seongwu teases, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. The action is so  _ Ong Seongwu _ , and it makes Minhyun smile despite how he rolls his eyes at Seongwu’s challenging tone. Warmth holds his heart captive, but Minhyun doesn’t think his heart wants to escape its hold. 

Minhyun has always considered himself a little emotionally constipated, and maybe he’s right to do so, but right in this moment, he’s never been so sure about something— _ someone _ .

He knows what he wants.

Seongwu is a pool of hopes and dreams, of beginnings and second chances, of bad jokes and talking into the early hours of the morning, of comfort and home, of everything Minhyun has wanted to find, and  _ so much more _ . 

He’s thought of doing this for days, and he’d climbed up the ladder a million times, each time walking down the board and walking right back, pacing and pacing again. And each time he had climbed down, fear and doubt like a ball and chain around his ankle; with it, in the million scenarios he played out in his head, he would always drown.

In this moment, though, with Seongwu in front of him, with his comforting touch and patient smile, Minhyun finds himself climbing up that ladder and walking straight to the edge. 

He doesn’t look down; he doesn’t wonder how long he’d freefall before he hits the water; he doesn’t think about backing down.

Minhyun looks Seongwu in the eye, and he takes the plunge. “Will you be my boyfriend?” 

A fire burns in Seongwu’s eyes, and the sun shines just right through the window, light circling like a halo above his head, and his smile makes him glow. 

Minhyun doesn’t know how to swim, but he’s willing to learn.

Seongwu laughs, eyes scrunched into half moons and head thrown back, and the sound is like music to Minhyun’s ears. “The nurses are going to riot.”

It’s in an almost out of body experience that Minhyun notices that they are the only ones in the hospital cafeteria, in their own little world in the middle of the room, hands joined and hearts bound by a red string.

Minhyun’s heart leaps. “I’m taking that as a yes.” 

Seongwu scoffs, cocking his head to one side. “When did you get so confident, Hwang Minhyun?”

“I think it might have had something to do with you.” He shoots back without missing a beat, mouth moving on its own, and Minhyun thinks that  _ this _ —how easy it is, how he can be himself, and unapologetically so, around Seongwu, how Seongwu is one half to make him whole—is what he loves most. 

Minhyun holds Seongwu’s hand a little more closely. “So? Is that a yes or are you going to break my heart?”

Seongwu squeezes his hand back. 

“Yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”

  
  


**EPILOGUE**

  
  


It’s on another sunny day that Minhyun and Seongwu take a walk through the hospital courtyard, each holding a sandwich in one hand, other hands connected, fingers locked. Minhyun stares down at him with curious eyes, watching him with the same intensity that makes Seongwu want to both duck his head in embarrassment and stay the apple of Minhyun’s eye forever. 

The wind blows harder and the cold draft makes the older shiver, tugging Seongwu closer to him for warmth. Minhyun talks around a bite of his sandwich, to which Seongwu grimaces and swats at him. 

“Have you decided what department you want to go into?” 

Seongwu weighs the question. He’s thought about it for a long time now, and he’s always drawn a blank, but as he stares up at the clouds for a moment, something dawns on him.

With a small wistful smile playing on his lips, he thinks about a kid who loved vanilla shakes and mango tea, a kid who was larger than life itself and taught him so much in the short time Seongwu had the honor of knowing him, and Seongwu finally comes to the understanding that the answer was always in his heart. It was hidden away, waiting for Seongwu as it sat behind his walls and facades, in the drawer with the names of patients that he will always hold near and dear—he just had to have the will to find it. 

Maybe it’s the product of good timing, or maybe it’s the heavens’ will, but at that moment, the clouds part for the sun, and it shines bright and beautiful in the stretch of blue—a beacon of light, a prayer of hope. 

Seongwu lets himself wonder if it’s Yeowon’s doing; if he’s happy up in the heavens; if Yeowon is trying to let Seongwu know that it’s okay, that  _ he’s _ okay.

_ It’s okay. _

Seongwu takes a breath and lets it go. 

He has come so far, and farther he will go. 

With a nod and a grin, he says what dream has always stayed in his heart, and what dream will always stay with him for as long as he is allowed to walk this earth, this ugly and beautiful earth with all its roads and wrong turns, all its red strings of fate and bad love stories, all its lost souls and found homes, all its Ong Seongwu’s and Hwang Minhyun’s. 

“Pediatric surgery.”

Time ticks on, and Seongwu falls into its rhythm, no longer scared of constants and changes. 

He gives Minhyun’s hand a small squeeze and decides that it will all be okay—he’s got a little faith, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> woo that one was a doozy yuh hit the like button and subscribe to my channel if you liked the video :B thank you for reading zzzz kudos and comments are lovely 
> 
> +++ i also want to announce that no i in fact do not think that a hot boyfriend is the remedy to grief and loss!!!! we all mourn in different ways and at different paces!!!! i don’t want to back the idea that love solves everything cause that’s not what *i* believe mwah if you have any other questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to shoot me a dm or ask <3
> 
> if you want to contact me you can find me here on twitter [@HEARTSlGNS](https://twitter.com/HEARTSlGNS) or on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ongdromeda) if you prefer to stay anon mwah


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